


truly different cries

by thisisnotwhatihadplanned



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Christianity, Gen, God - Freeform, Guilt, Snapshots, happy ending i guess, religious angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-10-13 17:01:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20585933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisisnotwhatihadplanned/pseuds/thisisnotwhatihadplanned
Summary: Where is God?He starts a prayer.





	truly different cries

The first time Tyler is aware of death he doesn't think much of it. He's sleepy, and his mother is rubbing slow circles on his back.

"Let's say prayers." 

Tyler's voice matches his brother and mother. 

"Now I lay me down down to sleep  
I pray the Lord my soul to keep  
If I should die before I wake   
I pray the Lord my soul to take."

"Amen!" 

Zach stresses the first syllable as little children often do when saying prayers, and he's tucked into bed. 

Tyler, however, doesn't say amen because he's thinking of the prayer. He's heard it for years, before he could properly speak. This is the first time he considers the words, the first time he's less interested in getting tucked in. 

Where was his soul? Where would it go? 

Lord, God, Jesus. They were all the same person. Mom and Dad told him that he was perfect, really really good. 

He supposed he was safe with him. 

He kisses his mother on the cheek and falls asleep quickly.

•

The second time Tyler thinks about death he's terrified. 

He's eight and Zach is five. His parents say the baby prayer with his brother. But he gets to pray all by himself. 

His eyes screw shut and he can't think with his mother talking beside him. So instead he listens.

If I die before I wake... 

Zach isn't sick. Probably none of the kids who said that prayer were sick. And a lot of kids do. Everyone in his sunday school, at least. 

Tyler knows death as wearing itchy shirts to look at his great uncle. You have to be quiet, and Mom is embarassed when Zach asks why the guy is sleeping. 

That was his body. 

"Uncle Charlie isn't here anymore, he's in heaven." 

Heaven sounds terrifying, but Tyler doesn't tell anyone that. He'd be yelled at, probably. 

Tyler also knows death by baby birds who dried up underneath his climbing tree. 

Once he picked them up. 

His mother was not happy. 

"Goodnight Ty, I love you."

"Goodnight Mama." 

But sleep didn't come. Tyler stares. And stares, and listens to his brother snore, and feels the knot in his stomach form. 

He didn't know where it came from, but he was going to die tonight. He could feel it. He wanted to wake up Zach, to hug him one last time, he wanted to tell his Mom, to scream and run. To climb that tree one last time. He wanted to meet the baby in his Mother's tummy. He never would. 

But instead he was frozen. He was almost excited, for a little bit. He wanted to know where his soul was kept. What was heaven like? 

Heaven seemed terrible. He liked being dirty and picking at scabs. To be honest, sometimes he enjoyed being sad.

He moved, just to see if he could. 

He moved again. 

"Please God, please. Please-"

Zach murmured. 

"Tyler? Be quiet." 

"Sorry Zachy."

He wasn't about to tell his baby brother he was dying. 

But the night passes, as they do, endlessly. And in the daylight he's embarassed of the fear that froze him. 

He forgets by breakfast. 

•

The first time Tyler doubts God he's in church staring at the bible in front of him. Days are longer now. He goes to real school and the static in the air swallows him whole. The path to his climbing tree is overgrown, and Jay doesn't know it exists. 

He feels hollow. 

Where is God? 

He starts a prayer.

'Please-'

It's one word. His eyes burn. 

He's messed up. He's being punished. He's- 

Maddie shoots him a look. His knuckles are white around his bible. He got it for his baptism, it's small and camo print, an orange snap on the front. 

He distracts himself by rubbling his thumbs over the worn leather.

There's nothing in the bible stating what 'this' is. All he knows is he wakes up nauseous and goes to bed wanting heaven. Wanting rest. Wanting death. 

He wants a word for it more than anything. 

For now he clings to the words inside the book in his hands. His knees are bruised. 

But music starts playing, and they have a front row seat to the show. Tyler spent most of his childhood pestering his parents about where they sat. He used to watch closely as the band set up. 

If there is a God, Tyler will thank him for  
music. 

He chastises himself for thinking 'if'. Fingernails dig into the soft skin of his forearm. 

He's an ugly creature, and he wonders why God would make him like this. It must be a punishment. 

Everything God makes is good.

His mother elbows him to make him sing.

•

"David, what's the issue with a utopia if God creates it? He's omnipotent, He has the power to make us perfectly, He has the power to create us with free will and true love and devotion to him. If He's all-knowing, you'd think He'd prevent all this." Tyler gestures around him, points to himself. "All this hurt, and death. And He does it selfishly. And He just. God doesn't make sense. Human life is important to Him until He decides to carry out His plans to kill whole nations. Why? I want to believe. I really really do." 

There are tears welling up in Tyler's eyes. David looks away. 

He loves this kid too much. He's like a younger brother, a dear friend. A lost sheep. 

David didn't have any answers. They have this same conversation every week. He gives Tyler book recommendations and bible verses. He prepares arguments for Tyler to refute, and chew on, and spit out in ugly tears.

David saw his near nightly routine when they took the youth interns camping. 

He always was an easy crier, but none of the boys dared tease him about it. 

"Tyler, sometimes you need blind faith. I don't know what else to tell you." 

Tyler grabbed air with his fists. 

"I-"

"You can't believe in something without proof. And you know millions of people struggle with the same questions. And you're trying to be respectful but, Tyler, you're mad at God."

"I'm not-"

"You are. I listen to your music. And it's okay. You get a free pass, in my unbiblical opinion." 

Tyler's laugh is unconvincing. Still sniffling, he wipes at his eyes. 

He looks at the clock on the choir room wall. 

"I gotta help with sunday school."

Tyler steps off the risers and heads to the children's wing.

•

Tyler's mother says the fame got to his head, too many years of not being in church. 

Trench is an experiment, he promises, and skips over his newest track. His mother is trying her best. 

There's a weight lifted off his chest. He feels like he woke up. 

And that's terrifying. In the book of Romans Paul assures believers that unbelievers are blinded by their sins, their hearts hardened. 

Tyler still remembers all the memory verses, they creep into his writing, they ring in his mind at his most vulnerable moments. 

He's not crushed anymore, though, and it feels weird. Light. 

God is love. 

God is love.

Right now Tyler doesn't stand on solid rock. He stands on sinking sands.

It feels more like open water though. Soothing, terrifying, strange and wonderful.   
Seeing the world through different eyes, a different mind, one that isn't guilt ridden and anxious, is a gift. 

Who gave it to him? Did he give himself the freedom to fling his head back and wonder at the life around him?

Or did God give it to him, painful and slow? 

He prays. Just two words. But there's no pleading tone, no urgency.

'Thank you.'

He rolls over and presses his nose to Jenna's shoulder.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
